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“There are things you can do to help you sleep,” Eden says in that same soft voice. “As you have no history of drug addiction, your physician can prescribe some sleeping pills. But there are other non-medicinal ways to aid sleeping. There are apps you can get on your phone that can help with sleep. They play calming music. But honestly, I’ve found the most success with those sound machines that have a night-light.”
I arch a brow. “You mean, the ones that babies use?”
She laughs, and the sound travels right through me, heading straight for my dick. “Yeah, the ones that parents use for their babies. Trust me, they’re really soothing. I have one. It projects stars onto the ceiling.”
“You have trouble sleeping too?” I ask her with a chuckle.
She pauses a moment before saying, “Don’t we all?”
That stops my laughter and has me wondering what keeps Eden up at night. I always thought she lived a charmed life, but maybe that’s not actually the case.
I bring my coffee mug to my lips and take a gulp. I watch Eden over the rim as she blows at her coffee before taking a sip, and I can’t even tell you how many dirty images of her blowing something else flit through my mind.
I’m a sick, sick man.
I shut those thoughts down and try to focus on something else. Anything, except her.
Then, I remember Wade’s death and feel like a complete asshole for not saying anything to her before now.
I lower my mug to rest on my thigh. “I, er, heard about Wade. I’m sorry.”
Her expression turns sad. “Yeah … it’s just so awful.” She bites her lip and stares down into her coffee, like I was moments ago. “I hadn’t seen Wade in a long while. We drifted apart after graduation. We decided to break up before going to college. There was no drama, but we lost touch.” She looks up at me. “I guess I don’t have any right to be upset. It’s just so weird, you know? It feels surreal.”
“He was a big part of your life at one point. It’s going to feel strange, and you have every right to be upset.”
She nods. “I just feel so sorry for his family.”
I agree because I do too. He was a prick in high school, but he could have changed. Even if he hadn’t, he still had a family who cared about him.
Like the man I killed.
That thought pierces straight through my chest, just like it does every time I think about him.
Yes, it was self-defense, and if it wasn’t him, I don’t doubt that it would have been me who died that day, but it doesn’t change the fact that I took a man’s life, and people were hurt and affected by it.
I regret it. If I could go back and stop it from happening, I would. But I can’t, and I can’t regret fighting for my life. Even if the last eight years haven’t been anything close to the life I imagined it would be.
I’d say the only good thing to come out of it is that it’s put me back in the same room as Eden again. Although it’s just back like how it was in high school. Me wanting her but unable to have her.
The intro to “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC starts to pump out of my truck’s speakers. Turning the volume up, I rest my elbow on the open window and tap my fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music, a sense of peace washing over me.
This freedom … I’ll never again take it for granted.
This is my life now. Go to work, go home, sleep … well, try to. Rinse and repeat. And I fucking love it.
I drive my truck, climbing the dirt road on the hill, taking me to work for the day.
Being a lumberjack isn’t the job I once envisioned myself working. I was in my third year of a computer engineering degree when I was arrested, thus ending any chance I had of finishing college. I could have completed my degree in prison, but I wasn’t in the right headspace for a long time to do anything related to my former life.
This job might not have been my first choice, but I like it. I’m outdoors, and I’ll never complain about that. It’s hard but honest work. The guys I work with all seem cool. And I’m getting paid a decent wage that pays the bills.
For an ex-con, it’s more than I could have asked for.
I pull my truck onto the site and turn into the parking lot. I’m the first one here.
I’m just about to turn off the engine when a news flash on the radio grabs my attention.
“This just in. The death of Wade Evans, whose body was found three days ago in the Willamette River, is being treated as suspicious. According to the coroner, Wade’s death was not by drowning. The autopsy shows that he was already dead before his body entered the water. The police believe that his death was due to foul play and are launching a murder investigation.”
